


No Choir

by Ultirex



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultirex/pseuds/Ultirex
Summary: Wheeljack has always been prone to a degree of spontaneity. It's a quality that Starscream had learned to appreciate long ago.
Relationships: Starscream/Wheeljack (Transformers)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	No Choir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsonseekers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonseekers/gifts).



> For Crimson, who wanted some Starjack with a surprise proposal. Please enjoy!
> 
> Title is a shameless Florence + the Machine reference.

The distinct click of Starscream’s thrusters gave his presence away. His heels had a habit of doing so, and perhaps it was a sign of his progression past the coping mechanisms of wartime that he would choose vanity over a paranoia-induced need for stealth. 

That was how Wheeljack chose to see it, at least. The need to hide was less pertinent when threats were employed through political gambits rather than weaponry, though the optimistic part of him hoped that Starscream had also started to see fewer dangers lurking in the dark. 

“It's unusual to see you out of your lab,” Starscream said. He never was one for proper greetings, but Wheeljack had quickly come to appreciate the directness of their conversations. 

It often felt like a privilege he had earned, given Starscream’s usual habit of weaving verbal webs with his infamously treacherous tongue; ones that could easily trap unsuspecting victims into not so mutually beneficial arrangements. 

“Contrary to popular belief I don’t actually like bein’ cooped up in there all day,” Wheeljack said. He didn’t pull out from beneath the MARB he was working on, opting for busy hands over politeness. It was a quality of his that Starscream had come to accept, and whether he did so begrudgingly or not Wheeljack simply appreciated that Starscream never made a fuss over social decorum when they were together. “Chemicals don’t make for good company.” 

“So you shut yourself away in your workshop, then,” Starscream said. There was a playful lilt to his tone that told Wheeljack he was being made fun of. He’d come to interpret it as a sign of affection.

”Hey, beats bein’ stuck in that stuffy council building all day.” Wheeljack fumbled around for the socket wrench that he swore he’d brought with him. Starscream’s thrusters were in his peripheral view, and were a welcome sight compared to the dull grey of the machinery that he’d spent the better part of his day underneath. “I’m surprised you managed to get away. Seems like I never see you durin’ the day anymore.”

Starscream shifted his weight. Wheeljack could picture the way his hand was surely resting on the swell of his cocked hip. “You consider this seeing each other?”

“Yep. Your thrusters look lovely, by the way. Kick me that wrench, there? To your right. No, sorry, left. My right.”

“I suppose the view could be worse,” Starscream conceded as he pushed the socket wrench towards Wheeljack. That same foot then proceeded to give Wheeljack’s leg an almost flirtatious nudge. “What is this that you’re working on?”

“It’s, uh.” Wheeljack cleared his intake and tried to focus on tightening the bolt. “One of those MARBs Ironhide found, out in the junkyard. Hoping I can salvage it for Flatline. Some of his patients are havin’ a hard time making it out to the clinic so I figured, y’know, why not bring it to them?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Starscream mused. “Typical. You’re always so…”

When Starscream trailed off, Wheeljack prompted him. “So…?”

“Thoughtful,” Starscream finally said. He normally ascribed such a quality with derision, particularly when a certain City Speaker was involved, but for Wheeljack he did so with a surprising amount of sincerity. “Cybertron is lucky to have you.”

Wheeljack did a last few adjustments before setting his tools aside and rolling himself back out. He figured he must have looked like a mess after hours of toiling beneath his latest project. 

“So I’m guessin’ you’re glad I didn’t take off on the _Lost Light_ ,” Wheeljack said. Getting back up was a laborious process as the finer mechanisms in his legs realigned after hours of idleness. 

Starscream scowled at the very mention of the vessel. “It would have been a waste of your talents, running off on that little fool’s errand. And you would have been stuck with-“

“But I’m not,” Wheeljack said. He pressed his faceplate against Starscream’s cheek in what had become their own version of a kiss. He had to stand on his tiptoes to do so. “Never said I regret stickin’ around. Even if it meant - what, dying?”

“Almost dying,” Starscream corrected. He had a curious expression as he examined Wheeljack’s face. “You’re covered in oil.”

Wheeljack couldn’t bring himself to feel remorseful for the fact that some of said oil was now smeared on Starscream’s cheek. 

In fact…

“Yep,” he said, giving the ‘p’ an emphatic pop before gathering up some of the oil that was slicked on his chest and wiping it on Starscream’s forehead. “So are you.”

Starscream made an entirely undignified sound. He attempted to rub away the offending liquid but just smeared it further, detracting entirely from the glare that he offered in retaliation. 

“Cute.”

Wheeljack’s finials glowed an impish blue. “Yeah, you are.”

“Very mature,” Starscream muttered, clearly not having it in him to try and stay mad. He looked sheepish as he pull out a cleaning cloth. “Here. I can’t have a conversation with you when you look like this.”

He cupped Wheeljack’s cheek and tilted his face up to get a better view of the damage. “Look at you. You look like you’ve been rolling around in this.”

“Maybe I was,” Wheeljack said. He closed his optics, allowing himself to appreciate Starscream’s touch. Starscream’s hands weren’t rough and worn like his, accustomed as they were to an entirely different breed of labor and the luxury of meticulous maintenance. “You don’t know what I get up to when I’m working.”

Starscream snorted. “What is with you today?”

“Dunno.” Wheeljack shrugged. “Guess I’m just happy to see you. Why are you here, anyways? Missed me that much?”

“No,” Starscream said. It must have been a reflex response, because he amended it after a moment of worrying his lip in that way he sometimes did when he thought he wasn’t being watched. “No, I didn’t have any particular reason. Maybe I did just want to see you. Is that so hard to believe?”

He pulled away and took a moment to inspect his handiwork. The dainty white cloth was covered in black stains, but Wheeljack took comfort in knowing that Starscream had several more stashed away in his vanity. 

“Acceptable,” was Starscream’s verdict. 

“High praise, comin’ from you,” Wheeljack drawled. His optics twinkled with good natured humor. “Here. Let me fix my mess.”

He took the cloth and reached up to try and remedy the damage he’d done, but his already stiff shoulder joints were quick to protest. “Uh, would you mind.”

“Should have had Flatline add a few inches onto you,” Starscream teased as he pulled up a chair. It brought his smug smile down to a comfortable height. “Meters, even.”

Wheeljack rolled his optics. “M’not that much shorter. We’d be about the same if it weren’t for these.”

He gave Starscream’s thruster a tap with his foot. He did have a weakness for those heels, but he wasn’t going to just hand over that victory to Starscream’s ego. 

“Excuses,” Starscream said. His wings lowered into a more relaxed posture as Wheeljack wiped away the oil. 

The derma around Wheeljack’s optics creased in the closest approximation he had to a smile. “Enjoy what victories you can. ‘Cause I may be smaller, yeah, but at the end of the day but I can still carry your aft home whenever you fall asleep at your desk.”

“Twice,” Starscream said. “That only happened twice.”

Wheeljack chuckled. “And it’ll happen again. Doesn’t mean I won’t appreciate how cute you look like that.”

Starscream shot him a glare. It was more endearing in its petulance than intimidating. “I can’t believe I subjected myself to this.”

“Door’s right over there, if you need it.” Wheeljack took a moment to examine Starscream’s face. “Huh. Y’know, this kinda reminds me of somethin’. Windblade told me about it once, some tradition they have back on Caminus.”

The City Speaker’s name didn’t elicit any scathing commentary for once. Wheeljack took it as another sign of progress. 

“They’re big on ritual painting, and all that,” Wheeljack continued. “Apparently they have one of these patterns for bonding ceremonies and a different one for the ritus itself. Pretty neat, when you think about it.”

“You’re romanticizing the oil that you assaulted me with,” Starscream deadpanned. 

“You wear it well, what can I say.”

Starscream’s wings gave a haughty flick. “I could make anything look good. Your attempt at sabotage backfired.”

Wheeljack wiped away the last of the oil from where he’d nuzzled Starscream’s cheek. He couldn’t help but wonder what Starscream would look like at the hand of a talented Camien craftsman, whose precise lines and richly pigmented paints would accentuate Starscream’s handsome features just right. 

“What?” Starscream asked, and it was only then that Wheeljack realized he’d been staring for an impolite amount of time. 

“Nothin’,” he said. “Just, uh. Thinking.”

“About?” Starscream pressed. Wheeljack should have known by now that he was never one to simply let things go.

“You want to bond?”

His vocalizer had a will of its own, and it took several beats of silence for his processor to catch up with what he had just proposed. When it did, and the initial wave of panic subsided, he decided that it was more than just a simple whim. 

This right here. The easy conversation, the quiet intimacy or wiping each other clean. The realization that the loneliness and isolation he’d felt upon the loss of his friends was now little more than a footnote in the narrative of his post-war life. 

It was more thrilling than frightening, and it allowed him to weather Starscream’s wide-eyed stare and fumbled attempt at a response. 

“I - you...what?”

“Bond,” Wheeljack repeated. “You an’ me. You want to?”

Starscream gave Wheeljack a look over, his gaze lingering on the oil and grease still flecked across his chest and abdomen.

Wheeljack opened his arms and presented himself for Starscream’s scrutiny. 

“I don’t really know what I was expecting,” Starscream eventually said. 

Wheeljack blinked innocently at him. Starscream smiled, despite his valiant attempt at keeping a straight face.

“You’re straightforward.” Starscream said. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

“Enough to put up with me more than you already do?” Wheeljack asked. He knew his animated door-wings were undermining any attempt at playing this entirely impromptu proposal smooth. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

A kiss was placed on the seam of his faceplate, and Wheeljack wondered if this was what it felt like to experience love. 


End file.
